So what am I still doing

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So what am I still doing


A collection of

Newsletters and Short Stories from 2012


Fatima “LILIAN” Mustelier

© High 2012

Charles William Benjamin was my friend. We often talked about his early years in his

Homeland of Guyana, and how great it was to take part in the Olympics and life in our new

home America.

I remember the time we ended up at the Ski Lodge on Mt Hood, accidentally making a

Miller Commercial with the Jamaican Bobsled Team when their band was stuck in a snow-

storm and Charles's band Tropical Rainstorm was used in lieu of.

I remember all the work, “For Betterment Of Men” he did while Worshipful Master of

our Fred Harris Lodge.

I remember the kindness he had shown me for many years and the comfort he gave

me when we lost our good friend Keith Eubanks.

I remember the last phone conversation we had in 2010. He informed me that he had

thought about all the things I said to him and how he had finally decided to do the things the

way he wanted to do. And he notified me that from now on he wanted to finally call himself


In 2012 I looked for my friend because I missed him, and he had dropped out of sight.

I discovered William had died in 2009, and NOT ONE PERSON thought it was neces-

sary to notify me.

I also discovered that William had called me AFTER he died. I guess it was his way of

saying goodbye except I missed it.

So I dedicate this book to you, my dear friend. I did locate a signed copy of YOURS

TRULY and listen to it when I think of you.

I remember all the things you told me, William, and I am putting them to good use.

I thank you for having spent time and space with me, and may Universe take you to the

Heights in the stars you so desired.

And here are the Thank You's!

It is customary to acknowledge people that have been supportive during the crazy

times of giving birth to a book. So I shall get on with it…

My family: David, Conner, Michelle, J and Lori. Tamara, Brian, KK. Destiny, Carlos, Ili-

ana, Ebony, ZOOZOO, Malcolm, Stacy, Vanya, Maeson, Sirius and Chianti. Claudia, Dieter,

Jeanette, and my soul mate Omar. Once again they put up with my obsessive behavior in or-

der to finish this project.

Anne, my greatest critic.

Lisa Bielski, Mike Johns, Tim and Slavka, Tom Stahl and Patricia Michl, not necessarily

in that order.

Dennis Kucinich for restoring my faith in truth and courage, to inspire me and cheer me

on in my ethics.

The Navajo Nation for allowing me to find peace of mind in spirit at Canyon DeChelly.

Kathryn Grandfield for saving you, the reader, from terrible spelling.

Tim for again believing in me. Bill Ramsay for keeping me sane.

Ami for pretending to suffer from insomnia so I don’t feel bad about calling her in the

middle of the night.

Lia Shapiro of Alien Tribe for her support and friendship.

Sten Westling for the cover Photo.

Micheal Lillie for creating the book cover.

Justin B Wright for editing this book for you!

My fans for cheering me on!


I can't believe how fast this year has passed, and here we are again. At this point

everything written by me in 2012 is safely tucked away in book form. This year also in

Kindle form, if that is what it is called.

2012 was the last year I produced any new TV Shows. Instead we are playing En-

core presentations and completed downloads of 245 shows to Blip, Youtube and my

website. Only 512 to go. Who would have imagined there was so much to talk about!?

I turned 65 this year, a good time to turn TV over to a younger face, HOWEVER...

There is talk of a radio.webshow in 2013.

I so appreciate you taking the time to see what the world was up to and laugh

with me on occasion. It is amazing how we handle life's idiocies.

Come into my Queendom and enjoy!

So there you are.... Ready, Set, GO!



I first met Lilian around 1998 while directing the TV show of another producer at TCTV.

Lilian was the guest on “Living Solutions with Nancy Seals”, a live psychic call-in show. She

poached me (willingly) away from Nancy, and I began to direct her show “A Visit with a Person

of High Strangeness.” I had started my own live show, “Dance O’ Dance” with an awful

timeslot of Wednesdays at 4PM. It wasn’t until we switched to Fridays at 8PM that we under-

stood just how awful the previous timeslot had been. One Wednesday afternoon the only

person dancing that hour was Lilian!

In her first book, “And the Moral of the Story is… One Person at a Time,” Lilian encoun-

ters grasshoppers on a road trip and looks up the significance. When a grasshopper appears

it is in indication of an uncanny leap. I felt an affinity for this creature going back to my child-

hood. I used to watch David Carradine in the TV show Kung Fu. His character, a Chinese-

American Shaolin monk, was nicknamed “Grasshopper” by his old blind master.

Master Po: [after easily defeating the boy in combat] Ha, ha, never assume be-

cause a man has no eyes he cannot see. Close your eyes. What do you hear?

Young Caine: I hear the water, I hear the birds.

Master Po: Do you hear your own heartbeat?

Young Caine: No.

Master Po: Do you hear the grasshopper that is at your feet?

Young Caine: [looking down and seeing the insect] Old man, how is it that you

hear these things?

Master Po: Young man, how is it that you do not?

When I decided to pursue martial arts in college I studied an Indonesian-American

style known as Poekoelan. My teacher illustrated the philosophy of the style using the rose:

beautiful petals hiding deadly thorns.

I also studied the post-modern Japanese dance form, Butoh. My teacher there also

used the rose as a powerful symbol meaning the impermanence of suffering and persistence

of love. I grew up in Portland, known as the City of Roses. I had a great aunt, a sister, and a

girlfriend named Rose. [Technically, for two of them, it was their middle name.] It made sense

that I would choose a rose for my first tattoo, at the Electric Rose tattoo parlor.


When I read the passage in “And the moral…” that mentioned grasshoppers I under-

stood that this insect had been one of my spirit animals. Lilian took a trip to Colorado that

year and asked if she could bring anything back for me. Without hesitation I replied, “A

grasshopper.” She waited in a field for several hours with a friend and caught one for me in a

jar. When she gave me the jar, all I saw was what looked like the ghost of a grasshopper in

the bottom. Neither of us knew at the time that a grasshopper sheds its skin, or more techni-

cally its exoskeleton, like a snake. The actual living grasshopper was still alive and hiding on

the inside lid of the jar. He had undergone transformative growth and left his old self behind.

I decided then to honor my spirit animal by getting a grasshopper as my second tattoo.

A grasshopper jumps into a bar, and the bartender says, “You know, we have a

drink named after you.”

The grasshopper looks surprised and says, “You have a drink named Herbie?”

Several years later, on March 14, I was in Ellensburg and decided to commemorate Pi

day (3.14) with a Pi tattoo. To me it represents the irrationality of life. Pi is an “irrational num-

ber” that cannot be expressed as a ratio of whole numbers. When I told the artist I wanted

the symbol for Pi” he gave a quizzical look and assuming I meant “PIE” began to reach for

his Japanese dictionary. “No, no, the math thing,” interrupted the girl running the register, and

she quickly jotted down the familiar table shaped marks: π. The artist took it on himself to

thicken the lines, and now I have something reminiscent of a Wolf Howling at the Moon. By

the way, did you know that 314 is PIE backwards? Mind=blown.

I only have four tattoos, and you must hear about the final one because Lilian both in-

spired and paid for it. It actually completes the set in a way. In 2003, I was engaged to be

married but between jobs when I heard from Lilian that she planned to attend the 12th Annual

International UFO Congress Convention and Film Festival in Laughlin, Nevada. She needed

a cameraman to come along so she could interview some of the world famous guests. The

trip was financed by her angel investors, and all my travel, food and lodging would be cov-

ered. I leapt at the idea. I sorely needed an adventure like those she’d described in her


Let me step back for a moment to explain my position on all the High Strangeness. My

father is one of the world’s ultimate skeptics. He’s an electrical engineer who got into forensic

animation (cartoons recreating fatal accidents). For him everything has either a rational ex-

planation, or it’s crazy made-up bull$#*! My mother was a lawyer, and things need to pass

the evidence test as well or they are inadmissible. Facts are separate from hearsay. Grant-

ed, she also has a willingness to entertain certain poetic and mystical notions like: Your Car is

Your Way. Her parents originally came from the Indonesian island of Java. Although they

(and she) were raised Catholic, there were ancient animistic beliefs woven throughout the

community. I heard that great Grampa had a Keris (a traditional curvy sword forged with an

alloy of meteorite iron) that protected him in snake infested territory. Oma Selma told me that

she was able to see auras. Opa Rudy got deep into the Woo-woo and often talked about Ed-

gar Cayce, reincarnation, and the Egyptian god Ra. The rest of the family didn’t exactly en-

courage that kind of conversation. They all basically humored him. That’s what I learned to

do. I learned to be a somewhat dispassionate listener.


As the director for Nancy and later for Lilian, I didn’t have to believe all the theories of

the guests to make good television. In fact, it’s easier to focus on the technical side of the job

when you can compartmentalize the content as “the audio signal” or “the video insert”. It’s a

lot harder if you take the myriad conspiracy theories (or cancer cures) to heart. Point being, I

have had to indulge a lot of exhibitionistic people who needed their moment of fame, but it

was all For Entertainment Purposes Only. That changed with the trip to Laughlin.

Lilian and I volunteered to be judges for the documentary film festival, watching dozens

of movies about Angels, UFOs, Aliens, Orbs, and Crop Circles. Many of them pushed the lim-

its of credulity and would not pass the giggle test. An “artist’s rendering” of the “being” you

say you saw doesn’t convince me.

However, one subject had ample photographic, videographic, and physical evidence in

addition to the anecdotal: crop circles. They are undeniably real. The phenomenon has

evolved over the centuries from simple circles to intricate football field sized patterns. When

we saw the documentary “Crop Circles: Quest for Truth” projected on a big screen I recog-

nized High Strangeness indeed. It was a goose-pimply hair-raising moment to see the im-

mense scale and quantity of circles being analyzed with honest-to-goodness scientific dili-

gence. Dad would have had a field day with it, I’m sure. His go-to motto is Occam’s razor,

namely that a simpler explanation is more correct than a more complicated one. In the end,

he could be correct in assuming every single formation has been man-made, and that’s less

complicated than alien leprechauns.

Speaking of leprechauns though, let me bring in another voice, that of Terence

McKenna. I first heard McKenna on a cassette talking about “the self-replicating machine

elves of hyperspace”. You can apparently only see these ‘elves’ after taking the powerful

psychedelic DMT. It’s appropriate that he figure in this rant because of his work around the I

Ching, Mayan calendar and novelty theory. He proposed a timewave zero that increases in-

terconnectedness eventually reaching a singularity of infinite complexity in 2012. On Decem-

ber 21st. [8 weeks away as of this writing!] You won’t be able to call him up and say Neener-

neener on the 22nd though. He passed away in 2000.

It’s another of his theories that I want to share, however. He was once asked why he

thought people believed so many strange things. It was a “Balkanization of epistemology”.

One person believes fervently in the channeling of arch-angels and their neighbor is a strict

econometrist. We’ve got a lot of mutually exclusive operating systems, so how do we tell the

$#*! from Shinola? McKenna brought up Plato’s idea of “The Good, The True, and The Beau-

tiful”. It’s tricky to tell what is good. It’s even trickier to tell what is true. But it is easy to dis-

cern what is beautiful. As a species, in spite of our huge intellect, we mostly choose based on

aesthetics. Some folks like a lot of stained glass and Latin framing their world view. Others

like knocking on doors and handing out pamphlets to give their lives purpose. Still others

drink grasshoppers and tell long meandering stories about their tattoos.

I decided to get a crop circle tattoo. I didn’t choose the latest, most detailed version. I

chose version 2.0: the ring. Originally, for hundreds of years only circles appeared. Then,

one day a ring appeared, and it was an uncanny leap in crop circle evolution. I told Lilian my

plan, and she handed me the money. It was 2/3/2003. I took a bus from our hotel across the

Colorado River from Nevada into Arizona. In so doing, I had suddenly gained an hour, as I

crossed from one time zone to the next. I had to walk 2 miles to my destination, Time Warp

Tattoo. In the end, a black & white diagram of a crop circle ring looks something like a total

solar eclipse. Now my tattoos can make a rebus: the sun and moon rose for grasshopper pie.


What I’ve been trying so hard to convey is that if you encounter Lilian, her show, or her

writing, the voice of your intuition may get a little louder, and you too may be drawn into a life

changing adventure. At our house we get a lot of mileage from the old Latin phrase De gusti-

bus non est disputandum which in English means “There’s no arguing taste.” Or as the Indo-

nesian proverb puts it “Different men have different opinions; Some like apples, some onions.”
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